Page 12 of Baby Love

I blink a few times, and when I look at the director, he’s smiling.

“You both did well. Kind of wish I had that one on film. Let’s move on to the final scene at the house.”

By the time the workshop’s over, the sun has set, I’m wrung out, and I just want to sleep. I have a feeling I’m going to be exhausted by the time this series is finished.

Chapter Six: Park

It’s after dark when I pick up Anya from Khun Anong’s house next door to mine. Today was a lot, and we aren’t even filming yet. This is the first series I’ve ever done with P’Big directing, and he seems to be a perfectionist. I’ve been accused of being one myself, but I don’t come close to P’Big.

“How did Anya do today, Auntie?” I ask as I follow the older woman into her small house. Since my father and stepmother died, Khun Anong has become my sister’s babysitter when Anya isn’t in school. Khun Anong lost her husband several years ago, and, at that time, my father extended our fence to encompass Khun Anon’s property as well as ours, so we could look after her.

“She was an angel as always.” Khun Anong hands me Anya’s bag, which I hang over my shoulder before walking into the living room and scooping my sleeping seven-year-old sister off the couch.

“Have you eaten?” Khun Anong asks me. “I have some pork larb salad leftover from dinner.”

“Yes, I’ve eaten. Thanks, Auntie. I’ll be here to mow and weed your lawn in the morning.”

Khun Anong nods. “All right. Then you and Anya can eat lunch with me.”

I pause in the doorway. “You know, when you feed me, it kind of negates the fact that I’m mowing your lawn to pay you back for babysitting Anya.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re family. We help each other. No keeping tabs.”

She waves me off, and I carry my sister across the lawn to our small house, leaving my shoes outside the door before stepping inside. I lay Anya, already bathed and in her pajamas, on her narrow bed and press a kiss to her forehead.

“P’Park?” she murmurs before I reach the door.

I go back to sit on the edge of her bed. “Yes, Nong?”

“Did you have a good day at work?” She’s barely able to keep her eyes open but is determined to talk to me.

I hide my smile. “Yes, I did. Did you have fun with Auntie?”

Anya nods sleepily, rolls over, and sighs before dozing off again.

I go straight to the shower because, exhausted as I am, I know if I sit down even for a minute, I’ll fall asleep.

As I wash, I think about the workshop. The dancing before rehearsal was fun. I can’t believe Spin and I remembered the steps after all this time. When we stared into each other’s eyes, my heart leapt just like it did back then. When I was a junior at university and doing the play with Spin, I put those feelings down to being in character. Now, several years and acting jobs later, I have to admit that I’ve never felt that way except with Spin.

Is this what it means to have chemistry?

If Spin and I really have chemistry, that means we’ve got what it takes to make a successful ship, just as Khun Lee told us. A successful ship would mean more series and more attention, which could mean bigger and better things for my career. I’ve never been particularly good at any subject in school or any type of work with my hands. Being considered handsome and able to act are the only positives I have going for me. I need to make this job work.

For Anya.

My mind turns to our practice today with the acting coach. I have to admit it was effective. Once you get past the awkwardness of someone kissing you all over the face, you’re pretty much comfortable with them. Still, it’s not easy to enjoy a kiss when someone’s standing only a few feet away choreographing it. However, the second time we tried it, I was surprised when both Spin and I immediately sank into our roles and delivered a scene that P’Big said he wished he’d gotten on film.

Damp from the shower with a towel wrapped around my waist, I sit on my bed and check my phone. I have a from Spin.

Thanks for making today easier for me.

You’re welcome. Glad that I could help.

I smile as I get ready for bed.

Early the next morning, which is Saturday, after a quick breakfast of khao tom, I help Anya get dressed and take her next door with her backpack filled with a coloring book, crayons, and her favorite stuffed toys. Then I spend the next few hours getting Auntie’s yard into shape before heading home for a shower and change of clothes. The sun is high in the sky when I return next door for lunch. When I walk inside the house, the scent of curry puffs makes my stomach growl.

“P’, look at my picture,” Anya says from where she kneels by a low table. She holds up a picture of an elephant colored pink with careful scribbles.